


When the Sun Shines (We'll Shine Together)

by ladyknightanka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Innuendo, Kid Fic, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 23:18:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyknightanka/pseuds/ladyknightanka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is raising Sam and Adam. Castiel has his own tear-away to look after. They meet and bond and babysit for each other. Cas is there for Dean after a disastrous date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Sun Shines (We'll Shine Together)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nileflood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nileflood/gifts).



> Written for [dc_summerlovin](http://dc-summerlovin.livejournal.com/profile) on LJ. Originally posted [here](http://ladyknightanka.livejournal.com/36088.html). Enjoy! ♥

-

When the Sun Shines (We'll Shine Together)

-

 Dean hops out of the master bedroom on one foot, the other aloft so he can slip his remaining boot onto it.  
  
“Sam,” he calls down the hall, downwind of his brother's room. “You there, Sammy?”  
  
A moment passes. Then, Sam's door cracks open. Instead of the surly sixteen year old, however, a small blond head pokes out. Dean barely has a chance to get both feet on the ground, before Adam is barreling forward to clutch his legs.  
  
“Sam's not here,” the ten year old says, baby blue eyes latched earnestly onto Dean's face.  
  
Dean pries tiny fingers out of his jeans and kneels to Adam's height, all of four feet and a meager few inches tall.  
  
“Where'd he go, buddy?” he asks, tone level, a forced smile etched onto his mouth.  
  
Adam purses his lips in a way that makes him look much older than he is, as if he's judging Dean. He's cut from the same smartass cloth as Sam, though, so he probably is.  
  
“Sam says you're stupid.” Adam bows his head forward conspiratorially, voice a low whisper. His forehead bops against Dean's. “He says he's not gonna be here to 'watch that doofus crash and burn'. You're the doofus.” Before Dean can defend himself, Adam adds, “Can Castiel come over while you're gone? I wanna show him my new chemistry set.”  
  
Dean works his jaw, then nods. “Sure. Why don't you, uh, go call him, squirt?”  
  
“Not a squirt!” Adam shouts, running off to do as he's bid with his arms held high above his body, like bony wings on some strange bird.  
  
Dean sighs and fishes his cellphone out of his pocket. Sam's number is on speed-dial, just under John's, though the latter has long been disconnected. Dean presses 'send' and waits for Sam to pick up, but ten rings and a voice-message later, he realizes he's probably getting the cold shoulder, for whatever reason.  
  
The doorbell interrupts his internal, curse-filled monologue. Adam scampers back into the room and says, “I called, but Gabriel said Castiel's already on his way. Woo-hoo!”  
  
He's halfway down the stairs before Dean can ask if Gabriel, Sam's best friend and worst influence, had offered a status report on Sam, too. Dean follows Adam into the foyer at a more reasonable pace, but stills at the bottom step when he catches sight of Castiel.  
  
The light-bulb above the doorstep halos Castiel's night-sky dark hair and navy blue eyes, deeper and darker than Adam's pale azure. His beat up trench-coat billows behind him, somehow regal as a cape, even with Adam tugging on one end.  
  
“Dean,” Castiel says, in his typical gruff growl, which startles Dean out of his observations. Castiel holds a _Winnie the Pooh_ umbrella with honey-bee patterns out to him. “You should take this. It's drizzling.”  
  
Dean manages a laugh and says, “No thanks, Mary Poppins. I can handle some rain.”  
  
That has its desired effect; Castiel cocks his head in confusion. Rather than ask Dean to explain his reference, however, Castiel says, “You will be relieved to know Sam is currently sequestered in my studio. He and Gabriel are, they tell me, 'ganking zombie bastards', and do not wish to be disturbed.”  
  
That's what Dean likes best about Castiel. He grew up the sheltered prodigy son of an eccentric, hermit father, so he doesn't really get pop-culture, but he can read Dean like the periodic table – which, by the way, Castiel had memorized by heart – and he's done so since they met at one of Gabriel and Sam's parent-teacher conferences. He's been Dean's closest friend since then.  
  
Dean chuckles again, genuinely amused now. “Let me guess, you bought Gabe the new _Resident Evil_ game to go with his PS2?” At Castiel's half-shrug, Dean continues, “Ya know, sometimes I think you overspend partly to bribe my brothers into liking you better than me.” His eyes crinkle at the corners to show Castiel he's only teasing.  
  
“Perhaps.” Castiel returns the gesture with a wan smile of his own. “I purchase things for Gabriel because I am his guardian. That you happen to enjoy them is a pleasant additive.”  
  
Dean would bask in the glow of that 'you', because he knows it's not just Sam and Adam Castiel cares about, but then Adam pipes in with, “I _do_ like Castiel better, though,” and Dean flicks him in the forehead for the offense. “Cas, Dean hit me!” Adam squawks in outrage.  
  
Castiel stoops in front of Adam, unconsciously miming Dean's pose from earlier. “I saw,” he says. “Why don't you wait upstairs, while your brother and I discuss the ramifications of his actions?” Adam pulls a face, but perks up when Castiel continues, “You wish to show me your science project, don't you? I promise Dean's punishment will be suitable.”  
  
“Okay!” Adam beams, shoots Dean another dirty look, and retreats upstairs.  
  
“You gonna spank me, Cas?” Dean asks, smirking from ear to ear, once his youngest brother is out of earshot.  
  
Castiel stands and dusts off his black slacks. “I doubt your date would appreciate that,” he replies, perfectly deadpan.  
  
“Oh yeah.” Dean's smile smooths out into something neutral. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I, uh, forgot...” He realizes how that sounds a moment too late. His ears heat and Castiel's eyes bore into his face. “I mean, I forgot to say 'thanks' for getting out here so fast. Sam was supposed to watch Adam, but he bailed last minute.”  
  
“Do not be angry with Sam,” Castiel says, with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Adolescents are impulsive. In a decade or so, upon the full development of his brain, he will premeditate his actions more wisely. You, yourself, have some years left till complete maturation, in fact.”  
  
Dean stares at Castiel for a second, then says, “All right, whatever you say, Piaget.”  
  
“I'm a biochemist, not a psychologist,” is Castiel's immediate response. “I am, nevertheless, impressed by your reference, for once.”  
  
“And I'm impressed _you_ actually got it, though that's probably 'cause I read it in some medical 'zine while waiting for Adam's doctor to finish up his checkup.” Dean can't contain a laugh.  
  
Castiel smiles, as well. It's soft, even gentle, on his ordinarily stoic face. “That's a sound hypothesis, but shouldn't you be going, Dean?” he inquires.  
  
Dean takes a look at his watch and pales. “Er, yeah, you're right. I promised Cassie I'd pick her up at nine...ten minutes ago.” He makes to circle around Castiel, toward the still-open exit, but hesitates. Before Castiel can protest, Dean gathers him up in a quick hug and mumbles into his hair, “Thanks, Cas, for always being there. I couldn't do this without you, man.”  
  
He doesn't allow the moment to get too chick-flick-y. Not even two seconds later, he's out the door, but he can feel eyes following him down to his car, and the sweet smell of honey – more environmentally sound, and less chemically acidic, than most shampoos, Castiel had once lectured him, after Dean dumped a whole bottle of Sam's _Head and Shoulders_ down the drain for a prank involving _Nair_ – wisps potent into his nostrils.  
  
It fades, thanks to the wet wind billowing through Dean's Impala's windows, and the pine-scented air-freshener hanging above its dash, but focusing on Castiel's faint, lingering scent keeps Dean from pressing down on the gas-pedal too hard or potentially hydroplaning. It keeps him calm on the slick, dark road. Although he's almost twenty minutes late by the time he gets to Cassie's, his heart-rate is steady, and he has a charming smile ready for her glare.  
  
“Sorry I'm late,” he says, rubbing at his neck again. “I had trouble finding a babysitter.”  
  
Cassie's glower dulls into a frown. “I hope everything worked out? We can have dinner at your place, if you want?” she suggests. “I'd be happy to finally meet Sam and Adam, actually.”  
  
“No!” Dean exclaims, then falters at her neatly trimmed, upraised eyebrows. “I-I mean, Sammy's not home. He's at Gabriel's, but Cas is watching Adam. Maybe some other time?”  
  
“Okay.” Cassie stretches out both syllables of the word. She also gives Dean a sideways, suspicious look, but takes the arm he offers, regardless. She doesn't ask where he's taking her, and he doesn't strike up a conversation either, so the ride to Big Gerson's is mostly silent. It's only after they've parked in the parking-lot that Cassie says, “ _Here_?”  
  
Dean can hear the skepticism in her tone. “It's Castiel's favorite restaurant,” he tells her quickly.  
  
“Wasn't there an FDA violation here some months back?” Cassie asks, eyebrows knitted together now, lip-glossed mouth twisted to one side, utterly unimpressed.  
  
“Yeah, but like you said, it was months ago. They're approved for re-opening now, under new management, and I've been meaning to come back here with Cas.” Dean grins at the thought, but lets it fall away at the bemused look Cassie shoots him.  
  
“So you brought me instead? Hm...” She purses her lips again, but doesn't sound upset or angry.  
  
Dean feels like an ant under a magnifying glass beneath her scrutiny. “You wanna...go somewhere else?”  
  
“No, it's fine,” Cassie replies. She doesn't, however, accept the arm he holds out to her this time.  
  
They eat a quick, quiet meal and leave the diner. Dean shouldn't be surprised when Cassie informs him of her plan to take an upcoming stint studying abroad in Rome, nor at her tactful proposal that they see other people, but somehow he is.  
  
“You should do what makes you happy, Dean,” she says, before shutting her door in his face, but he doesn't know _what_ she thinks that could be.  
  
The sky opens up and rain pours out, matching his mood. He breaks several traffic laws on his way back home, and kicks at the curb prior the fence around his yard, but restricts his frustration to internal expletives.  
  
The lights of the Winchester house are off. Castiel has somehow coerced Adam into maintaining his curfew, which Dean knows personally is no easy task, and he doesn't want to screw that up, too. He picks his way across a sea of battered lawn toys, clothes drenched, and skulks into the foyer like a ninja.  
  
There, he stands for a few seconds, dripping, listening to mild inhales and exhales that he soon discovers belong to Castiel, who lays across Dean's couch, still outfitted in his trench-coat, tie skewed worse than ever. Dean smiles at him through the dark, then plops down parallel him on the sole single-seat sofa in the room, his back to the kitchen entrance.  
  
He jolts out of his relaxed slouch at the clinks and clangs of tinkering pots that meet his ears. “Squirt, you getting a snack?” he calls over his shoulder, but regrets it an instant later, because Castiel sits up and blinks at him.  
  
“It's possible Sam has returned,” Castiel murmurs, blue eyes bright as a dying computer monitor.  
  
If the noises behind him hadn't continued, Dean would comment on the smudges beneath Castiel's eyes and the deeper, sleep-deprived husk that his voice has become, would ask if everything's going okay with Castiel's lab work, but instead Dean shouts, “Sam, if that's you, you get your ass in here right now!”  
  
There's a beat, before, “Coming!”  
  
It's a smarmy, familiar voice, distinctly _not_ Sam's. Dean catches Castiel rubbing at his temples. Three figures of varying heights step out of the kitchen.  
  
Sam grins impishly at Dean, dimples in his cheeks. “Hey, jerk.”  
  
“Bitch,” Dean replies, on reflex alone.  
  
“That's mean,” Adam cuts in from beside Gabriel, who stands between him and Sam.  
  
Gabriel is the only one wearing a tuxedo-patterned t-shirt, whereas Dean's younger brothers don actual suits, which he recognizes from John and Kate's funeral years ago. Sam's stops somewhat short above his gangly wrists and ankles now; Adam's still looks fine.  
  
Dean swallows around the lump in his throat and crosses his arms. “What are you chuckleheads up to now?”  
  
“Oh, _we're_ the chuckleheads?” scoffs Gabriel, but before Dean can give him a good thwack, Sam sticks an arm between them.  
  
“We, uh, we made you guys dinner.” Sam flashes Dean an endearingly bashful beam.  
  
“Well, _I_ made dinner,” Gabriel says.  
  
“I helped,” chirps Adam, grinning. “Sam set the table. After he burned the first packet of spaghetti, Gabriel banished him.”  
  
Sam blushes. “Yeah, okay, can we just get on with this?” To Dean and Castiel, he says, “Right this way, sirs.”  
  
Castiel doesn't hesitate; he heads into the kitchen at once. Dean, on the other hand, thumbs toward the staircase. “I'm kinda wet. I should go change. Sam, why don't you come with me?”  
  
Sam's eyes go wide. Gabriel, Castiel and Adam abandon him to Dean's whims. Dean reaches forward and hooks his fingers around Sam's elbow, to better drag him up the stairs.  
  
“What are you doing?” Dean demands on the top step.  
  
Sam swallows audibly, but sets his shoulders back in determination. “I'm helping you do what you've been too stupid to,” he says. Under Dean's narrowed gaze, he continues, “Come on, Dean, you _like-like_ Cas. Everyone can tell.”  
  
“I-I do not,” Dean replies. He hates the stammer he can't quite curb and clears his throat, then smirks. “For one thing, I'm with – I was with – Cassie. For another, 'like-like', really? Dude...”  
  
Sam doesn't let Dean distract him. Instead, he says, “You don't think it's weird, you suddenly deciding to get serious with a girl as soon as you meet Cas? Her name is even Cas _sie_.”  
  
“No, it's not weird,” Dean growls, but already Cassie's face is flitting into his vision – how confused, but almost _knowing_ she was during their last date, how he sometimes slipped and called her 'Cas', how easygoing she had been over their breakup, wanting him to 'be happy'. Dean tries, but can't even recall what she was wearing tonight. He glares down at his own mud-caked boots and whispers, “I'm not gay, Sam.”  
  
“I know that,” Sam says, quieter now, “but I also know _you_ , Dean. You've got a crush on Doctor Sexy, you spent a lot of time with that kid on the baseball team in high-school, and you were sad when he moved away. I know you care about Cas, that he makes you happy, but maybe you don't think you deserve it?”  
  
Dean opens his mouth to rebut and finds the words stuck in his throat. “Sammy...”  
  
“Adam and me... We don't care who you're with, Dean,” Sam says, dragging the toe of his white sneaker, a strange combination with his black suit, across the carpet below him. “We only care about you. And we know Cas likes you, too, even when you're being a jerk. Why don't you give this a shot?”  
  
Dean gnaws on his bottom lip for almost a minute, then sighs. “All right. Dinner. I'll do dinner with Cas, but I promise nothing else.”  
  
“Okay,” Sam agrees with another grin.  
  
They return to the kitchen after Dean changes his clothes. He finds Castiel already seated at the small table there. Sam joins Adam and Gabriel in the foyer. Dean ignores the very unmanly giggles that seep in from their makeshift waiters' whereabouts.  
  
“Hi, Cas,” he says instead, dredging up a small smile.  
  
Castiel doesn't return the gesture. His face is a mask of sobriety. “I hope this arrangement isn't discomfiting for you?”  
  
“Nah, Cas,” Dean responds, perhaps a little too quickly. “I mean, uh, we grab grub together all the time. What's the big deal?” Castiel cocks his head, chapped lips set in a thoughtful line, and Dean has seen that look before, in Castiel's lab, when he was observing the end result of a chemical reaction. Something clicks. “You knew...?”  
  
Castiel glances down at his plate of pasta. It actually seems edible, Dean notices, but then, Gabriel always has his mouth full of _something_ , so maybe he does know his way around a kitchen.  
  
Castiel shrugs. “I knew my feelings. I knew Sam and Gabriel had developed their own hypothesis. I knew they were plotting with Adam, but nothing more concrete than that, no.” He meets Dean's gaze and, in the light of the candelabra Sam had pilfered from wherever to decorate the table with, his blue eyes flicker like water in the sea. “I also know this _is_ discomfiting to you. I can go home, if you'd like?”  
  
He makes to rise, but Dean clamps his fingers around his wrist and says, “No!” Castiel's stare falls upon him again, clear and considerate as ever. “I want you to stay, Cas. I _need_ you to help me figure this crap out the way you already have.”  
  
Castiel doesn't sit straightaway. His eyes search Dean's face. Whatever he finds there seems to convince him. “I will stay,” he murmurs.  
  
Dean's lips curl up of their own accord. “Thanks, Cas,” he says, and his hand stays atop Castiel's as they eat.  
  
It continues to rain for the next few weeks, but when the sun finally does break out, it's worth it. Castiel is worth it, and Dean revels in the honey-scented marvel of their first morning after, while the kids laugh downstairs.

-

The End!

-

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed that. It was my first time writing Dean/Castiel as the main pairing in _a long time_ , lol.


End file.
